


Skyrim's for the Nords

by Akuoni



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 20:01:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4113148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akuoni/pseuds/Akuoni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>F!DB/Any - (Angst) Not suitable for marriage, emotional neglect<br/>(Anonymous)<br/>Full plot here:<br/>http://skyrimkinkmeme.livejournal.com/4580.html?thread=8494052</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Silken Pendant

There was one thing that could make the dragonborn flinch. Every day she heard it. It was carried in the breeze by men and women who rallied with the cry. Nevermind that the Dragonborn had slanted eyes and a faint inhuman rasp. Nevermind that the Savior of the World had a lifespan of far longer.

No.

The only Solace she took was that of her stalwart companion. Uthgerd held her gently and warmed her in the cold air that made her shiver. Uthgerd had laughed when a lucky punch had staggered her and she swore fealty to the small woman who had danced and weaved away from blows every time she was challenged and could even beat an orc Chief in unarmed combat.

Uthgerd had the honor of being the Dragonborn's companion. THe honor of following and seeing all the feats that could be observed. It was she that the Dragonborn turned to when the nights were too dark and the solitude was too lonely. It was gentle kisses and soft sighs. The dragonborn passive and wary with unnatural eyes glowing like lamplight as she allowed her companion to touch. To take control. During the day the Dragonborn leads. In the night, she is tamed.

Ulfric watches the Dragonborn with narrow eyes. She is unnatural. A false Dragonborn. The dragonborn should be of Nordic stock and a powerful warrior. Not some sneak-thief who stands too still with skin the color of snow that made one's eyes slide away like a powerful enchantment. He saw the way the dragonborn watched her companion and he frowned. Dragons will stay near their chest of treasures even to the death after all.

It was hard to send the dragonborn away without her companion. The Dragon's soul is a difficult hold to resist and she has absorbed so many souls. But finally he separates the two and beckons the companion closer.

"You are the Dragonborn's companion. You are close, yes?"

"Of course, Jarl Ulfric. I am her companion."

"The Dragonborn looks at you with more than a companion's gaze," he spoke idly, but he wasn't surprised to see the sudden tension in Uthgerd's expression.

"It is merely for convenience. SHe has never felt a man's touch and I have the honor of being her bedmate," Uthgerd chose her words carefully.

Neither of them noticed the dragonborn's return from where she had been sent. Neither of them saw the horror that dawned as the subject they had been speaking of unfurled in such ugly words. Neither heard the rustling sound of cloth falling from nerveless hands or the breathless gasp of despair.

"So, the look she gives you..."

"I am her bedmate. There is nothing more."

The dragonborn is never more thankful for her ability to be invisible than she is now. The guards don't even notice as the foreign dragonborn leaves the palace with the intent of never seeing the woman she thought loved her ever again. Perhaps the best way to soothe the burning in her heart is to embrace the nature of the Dragon.

It is time for the Dragonborn to finally meet the Greybeards.

The dragonborn is made of stronger stuff than the color of death suggests. She carries only what is necessary as she dives into the challenge of killing what cannot be killed. There is a daedric frenzy that overwhelms her as she tears into her foes. All will feel the dragon's wrath ripple like a stormy sea.

Grelod the Kind is dead. The Emperor's cousin is murdered during her wedding speech by the dark brotherhood. The emperor is killed. There is a cheerful jester that accompanies a woman white as death.

There is no warm embrace for Uthgerd, abandoned in the palace so far from Whiterun. At first she is angry. But the anger fades. She is abandoned. Left behind by a woman who had smiled so easily at her and who would fall asleep in her arms like they were in a safe place and who treated her wounds before she knew she had them. The dragonborn spoke poorly, so very different and fragile. The Shouts would leave her coughing up blood after a battle.

There is money from the items she was given to hold and she spends it on drink. She brawls too and there is nothing but the feeling of betrayal. The dragonborn had been so sympathetic before and now... Now she was gone and there was no return.


	2. Pay the Ferryman

The Listener is quiet. Cicero is curious about this woman who had joined shortly before his arrival. The others said she was cold as winter and just as dangerous. Cicero liked dangerous. He liked the quiet Listener who would seem less gloomy when he made a joke or did something foolish. He wished he could make her smile, but something inside of her had broken and he knew that it would remain so until it was mended. Cicero was no mender of broken hearts. He was but a fool.

The dragonborn sighed as she watched the old man sleep. A quick blow had him whimper out a gasp of pain and the contract was completed. She sighed sadly and left. It had been a long while since she had spoken of her once-beloved companion. This one did his best, but he was no Uthgerd. He did not evoke the same feelings. She wished that she had never heard those words.

"Are you the ones the Greybeards call Dragonborn?"

That sentence changed everything. She returned to the city for the first time since her betrayal. She didn't recognize or even notice the tired-looking woman who was tying something to the mast of the ship she was on while she spoke to the only ship that sailed to Solthsheim. She didn't see the glint of recognition in the Nord woman's eyes as she watched the waves of the ocean before them. 

Uthgerd thought at first it was a miracle. The Dragonborn was using this ship. She licked her lips and began to approach delicately, but before she could reach, she felt her hair yanked back to bare her neck to the sharp blade held there. She froze, remaining still as she watched her former lover turn and felt her heart sink when those beautiful eyes met her own. There was nothing in them. No warmth. No anger. Not even recognition. 

"Cicero," that voice that had once been kind was now cold as a northern winter. The hands that had threatened harm retreated and the woman who looked like the one Uthgerd has known smiled. It was not a cheerful smile, nor even a real one. This was a courtesan smile masking ignorance behind politeness.

"My Name is Lilitu," she curtseyed slightly and looked up at the frowning Nord, not trying to place how the features looked familiar despite being terribly scarred. It was not her place and the woman before her must have resembled something from her past. She shrugged and let the thoughts slide away, "my companion here is Cicero. He is a wandering fool so I thought it might be better to take a companion with them as well."

"Of course my lady," the jester cooed, though the words seemed so intimate on his lips as he pranced to her side. Uthgerd felt her temper flare at seeing them so close. Seeing her relaxed in his proximity. Something ugly unfurled in her belly, but she nodded and forced a strained smile. The jester returned it as he placed a hand on her former lover's shoulder and whispered something in her ear that was unheard from the distance. An insurmountable crag that short distance. She watched the small woman stiffen slightly and nod, cold eyes growing colder, and despaired to see such an imperious look on her once-shy lover. She gave a terse goodbye and turned away, returning to her duties.

"What an odd woman," the Listener commented quietly to the keeper. He chuckled. It wasn't a nice sound and she shot him a look, "there is nowhere to run if a sailor is slaughtered Cicero. Do not do anything foolish."

"Of course My Listener," he chuckled again and eyed the woman climbing the sails with the ease of a gorilla, "Cicero will do his best to ensure things run... Smoothly."


End file.
